"What'd Asher do to you to make you so angry with him?" This felt like more than sibling rivalry. It had to be.
No one hated their family enough to pay someone a million dollars to destroy their reputation and career.
No one.
There had to be something Mr. Locke was doing that made all of this fanfare necessary.
Clayton pushed the glass away and sat back, shrinking into the shadows again while he drummed the fingers of his right hand on the tabletop.
He was clearly drunk—bloodshot eyes, slightly slurred speech—and he seemed annoyed with my hesitation.
But If I was going to agree to this, like actually go through with it more than just dipping my toe in the water to see if it was a scam, I had to have a good reason.
"Well," Clayton said before hiccupping. "He's drunk at work pretty much every day. He's tanking huge accounts, and he's got the board so wrapped around his finger, they can't see right through him. Of course, he was Daddy's little favorite, so…"
He lifted a finger until Regan nodded at him, and when she looked at me she offered a "How's it going" sort of expression.
I shrugged a shoulder, already too ashamed to admit to my best friend the deal I was making.
Or that was already made.
His money was in my account.
How was I supposed to back out now?
"And there's proof of this?" I asked, feeling better about it now. Those were things I'd be able to see firsthand when I showed up on day one.
No one would have to tell me whether a man was drunk or not. I'd spent the past three years bartending my way through college.
"Look, lady, if you don't want to do this, I can find someone else. Maybe your friend over there?" He scowled at me and threw a thumb over his shoulder in Regan's general direction. "I thought you needed money. Beggars can't be choosers."
I cringed at that word. I most definitely wasn't a beggar, but I did need his money. "Fine. I'll do it." The huff that escaped my lips was nothing short of melodramatic, but I had to start practicing for the role of a lifetime. "And you're certain the position is an internship for corporate communications?"
My degree fit too perfectly with this little scheme he'd cooked up.
And CEOs never take interns for stuff like this, so it didn’t make sense to me.
I just didn’t want to show up on day one and see that I was nothing more than a glorified secretary.
Taking the CEO down for sexual harassment might mean losing the job, but any of the legitimate work I did while at LockeGlobal would be applicable experience on my resume—if it was in my field of study.
"Yes and no…" Now he changed his tune? I almost scoffed but he continued. "I've already approved the role through the board. Your official title will be intern, and you'll definitely work with the communications team. But the board agrees he needs a babysitter. So you'll report to me anyway." His eyes seemed to teem with hatred or animosity, like swarming bees or a school of piranha attacking.
"And when it's all done, you’ll make sure I have a good recommendation so I can continue working in this field. It won't blow back on me?"
"Here ya go," I heard and looked up to see Regan's smiling face as she slid Clayton's drink in front of him. "Need anything else?" she asked, but she was looking right at me.
"Yeah, you out of my hair," he grunted, then he pushed a twenty at her and she scowled before retreating.
This man could pay me a million to discredit and destroy his brother, but he didn't seem much better himself.
"When do I start?" My hands were still shaking slightly as I pocketed my phone and stood. I had to get back behind the bar to help Regan.
A party of five new regulars showed up a few minutes ago, and I knew she didn't like the lot of them.
"Monday morning. Wear something sexy… How about one of those tight skirts that's a little too short, and leave the top buttons of your shirt open? You have a nice rack." He smirkedat me as he gulped the drink, while I felt like bugs were crawling across my skin.
"Anything else?" I grumbled. He had some nerve telling me how to dress.
